


Dead Line

by xthe_dreamerx



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Canon Divergence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 21:37:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7138250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xthe_dreamerx/pseuds/xthe_dreamerx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a new alpha pack in town, and they’re looking for Derek Hale. Their leader will do anything, anything, to get what he wants. Even if it means torturing one strawberry blonde banshee. (Set between S2 and S3A)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She was a little overwhelmed. 

Could you really blame her, though? She had just found out that her best friend is a werewolf hunter, her best friend’s boyfriend—or ex-boyfriend—is a werewolf, and her very own ex-boyfriend was a psycho murdering, bipedal lizard turned werewolf. 

You could say she was thoroughly freaked out. 

It was still hard to believe that all of these things were real. But, she can’t really argue when she saw Jackson Whittemore turn from a bipedal lizard with reptilian scales turn into a werewolf with electric blue eyes. 

Sometimes, she wonders if it was really just a dream or not. 

But then she asks Scott to assure her conscience, and she realizes that none of it was a dream. It was all real. 

She was mad for a little while. They had been keeping this secret from her for several months, now. They had left her completely in the dark, even before she was bitten by Peter. But, she can’t really complain about that. So was Allison. 

It had taken her until the end of the school year to talk to them again. She needed time to process everything. Time to forgive them for keeping this massive secret from her. 

The first person she talked to was Allison. Of course she would talk to her best friend first. You can only stay mad at the girl for so long. And the millions of apologies that kept flying at her from the pale brunette were driving her insane. 

Next was Scott. He was too much of a puppy dog, giving her those puppy dog eyes, that she just had to give in. And once he explained himself, she understood. They were just trying to protect her. They wanted to keep her away from the supernatural world as long as they could. He was just trying to protect everyone he could. 

She doesn’t know why, but it took longer for her to forgive Stiles than it did the rest of them. And it wasn’t just because he was Stiles. Maybe it was because he’s basically in love with her, and he lied to her so easily about such a huge thing. What happens the next time something big happens, and he lies to her about it? What about the little things? 

It was awkward between the two at the beginning of the summer. She knew about his massive crush on her, she ignored him for the better part of eight years, and he lied to her about something so big, she didn’t know what to do. But Allison was gone to Paris for the summer, Jackson moved to London, and she really didn’t have any other friends to hang out with that she didn’t want to hit over the head with a shovel. 

So, that left Stiles and Scott. 

At first, she had just come over for a few movie marathons with both the boys to the Stilinski residence. The first marathon, she refused to let it be any of the movies they picked. Neither of them had seen Mean Girls or Legally Blonde. She just had to educate them on the things they’d missed out. 

Of course they had complained at first, but within the first five minutes of Mean Girls, they were hooked. It was quite the sight, and Lydia even managed to get a picture. 

The next movie day the three had was in the third week of June. She wanted to watch The Notebook. The boys wanted to watch The Avengers. She’d rolled her eyes and said the only way she would ever watch that movie was if they watched hers. First. 

And she’s Lydia Martin. She always gets her way. 

That day was a win for both sides. Lydia got to see the boys cry while they guys got to see her leaning on the edge of the couch, waiting for the next explosion to happen. 

Finally came the movie day that Stiles was waiting for. He was more than well aware of his two best friends—Lydia recently being added to that list—never having seen that amazing awesomeness that is Star Wars. That Tuesday during the fourth week in June was going to be the day that their lives were complete. 

Until he got a text right as Lydia showed up that Scott couldn’t make it. 

He had told Lydia the situation. She had just shrugged, saying they could watch it together without Scott. She had driven all the way to his house. There was no way she was just going to go back home to do nothing all day. 

So, they sat in his living room on opposite ends of the couch, their eyes trained on the screen. Stiles would never say it out loud—especially since he’s been trying to get over the strawberry blonde—but watching her watch his favorite movie of all time was his new favorite thing. 

She was so invested in the movie, not once taking her eyes of the screen. When one ended, she was up the next second putting the next one in. 

They had managed to watch all of the movies that day. 

It was four in the morning when the last one ended. He didn’t want her out in the night by herself, even though she assured him she’d be fine. He insisted that she stay over. She tried to argue, but Stiles Stilinski is a very persistent person. 

So, she had stayed over. He offered to take the couch so she could take his bed. It was almost an instant response as she refused, saying she would take the couch. She didn’t want him to give up his bed for her. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

It was quite the surprise when he came back downstairs with two pillows and two blankets. She asked him ‘what the hell he was doing,’ and he told her that if she was sleeping down here on the couch, he would, too. 

The Stilinski’s had a sectional couch, so Lydia took one leg while Stiles took the other. Their heads were right next to each other. They had quickly fallen asleep after he had shut the lights off, Sheriff asleep in his room upstairs. The house was silent and peaceful in the night, something that hadn’t been constant in a while in this town. 

It didn’t last long, though. 

It was probably around six thirty that Lydia woke up, screaming with all that she had. She had had another nightmare involving Peter. Even after he used her to reincarnate himself, the nightmares hadn’t left her. 

Stiles woke up minutes later, confused as to the loud, high pitched sound he heard. He turned around, to see Lydia thrashing around in her blanket, her mouth open in a never ending scream. 

Quickly, the boy wrapped his arms around her, trying to bring her back to reality. He whispered things in her ear as she slowly but surely calmed down. And after her screaming stopped, they just sat there, his arms around her as she leaned back into him, tears streaming down her face as he kept his lips pressed to the side of her head. 

That night, a special bond was created between them. Almost like, an emotional tether. 

After that night, the two were almost inseparable. There was hardly a time that you saw one without the other. Sleepovers became so regular, that they had clothes at each other’s houses. Their sleepovers moved from the couch to the bed. It wasn’t awkward anymore. They were best friend. It was almost as if the crush that Stiles had obsessed over for eight years was nearly forgotten. 

And that’s how we lead up to now. 

It’s one of those rare nights that Lydia isn’t sleeping over at Stiles, and vice versa. Her mother is dying to see the new Nicholas Sparks movie, so that’s what they’re going to do. Mother and daughter. Something they haven’t done in a long time. 

Lydia’s outfit is something you would probably never expect to see her in. A denim overall dress with a mustard crop top t-shirt underneath, white oxfords on her feet, her hair up in a messy bun. If anyone from school saw her, they might not recognize her without her heels. 

Her phone rings from her nightstand, lighting up with Stiles’ goofy picture that she had taken. His eyes were crossed, his tongue sticking out as his new hair was done up in a coif. She would never admit it out loud, but his new hair was a huge turn on. 

Yeah, she would never say that out loud. 

Rolling her eyes, the girl answers the phone, a sigh leaving her lips. “What do you want, Stiles? You know I’m supposed to meet my mom, soon,” she reminds him, picking at a loose thread on her denim dress. 

“I know. But my dad was wondering what you wanted for dinner tomorrow night. We’re out shopping right now. Any thoughts?” he asks, muffled voices scattered in the background. 

“Tell him I honestly don’t care. Whatever he wants,” she tells the boy, smearing some light pink lipstick on her lips as she holds the phone between her shoulder and ear. 

She hears him repeat the words to his father before returning to her. “Got it. Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night tonight?” 

She chuckles at the boy’s pleading tone, picking up her purse before walking out of her room. “Stiles, I haven’t spent a night with my mom in ages. We need this. She needs this. I need this,” she explains to him, walking downstairs to the front door. 

An exasperated sigh leaves his lips, making her giggle. “Fine. But you owe me pretty much all day tomorrow.” 

Rolling her eyes, she twists the doorknob, opening the door. “Don’t worry, Stiles, I promise I’ll…” her sentence trails off as she eyes the tall man standing on her doorstep. 

“Lydia? You still with me?” Stiles asks on the other end. 

“Uh, yeah. Just, give me a sec,” she tells him before pulling the phone away from her ear. “May I help you?” she asks the man in front of her. 

“Are you Lydia Martin?” he asks, his voice deep. Something you’d expect for such a brooding man. 

She eyes him warily. “Depends who’s asking.” 

“I’m gonna need you to come with me.” 

“What the hell for?” 

“It will be a lot easier if you just cooperate.” 

“What do you want?” 

“I need to ask you some questions about Derek Hale,” the man says, flashing his red eyes at the small girl. 

Her eyes immediately widen as she stands there frozen for a moment. And in the blink of an eye, she’s slamming the door closed, running the opposite way. 

The door doesn’t close all the way, allowing the man entrance into her home. It doesn’t matter at the moment, for she is already all the way up the stairs looking for a place to hide. 

She runs into her room, quickly getting under the bed. She tries to slow her breathing, knowing that there’s a werewolf in the house with her with super hearing. 

“Lydia?” 

Stiles. 

“Lydia, are you okay?” he asks as she brings the phone back up to her ear. 

“Stiles, there’s someone in my house,” she whispers into the phone, her breathing labored. 

“Lydia, what are you talking about? Who’s in your house?” 

“I don’t know. He was at the door, telling me he had questions about Derek, then flashed his eyes at me. He’s an alpha, Stiles. I tried closing the door, but he managed to get in. I’m under my bed now, but I don’t have much time.” 

“Lydia, just calm down, okay? Just stay there. I’ll be there as quick as I can, okay?” 

“Stiles, there’s not enough time! Just, just promise you’ll find me.” 

“Lydia, I—“ 

“He’s coming,” she whispers so lowly, he almost can’t hear her. 

Footsteps creak along the hardwood floors of the hallway outside her bedroom. Her breathing nearly nonexistent. She sees black boots walk into her room through the space between the floor and the bottom of her bed. His large feet sink into the plush carpet as he walks around, looking for her. She knows he can hear her. Why doesn’t he just grab her? 

A hand grabs her ankle, claws digging into her skin, making her scream. She’s pulled out from under the bed, a scream leaving her lips. The man grabs her around the waist, lifting her up from the ground. She flails and kicks, trying to get away. She manages to get him between the legs, his grip failing. She drops from his arms, quickly pushing herself up as she limps out of the room and down the hallway. 

He’s back up in no time, chasing after her. The werewolf trips over a stray shirt, falling to the ground. He manages to scrape her other ankle deep, causing her to trip and fall down the stairs. 

She hits every single one on her way down before landing on the hardwood floor of the living room, her phone still weakly clutched in her hand. 

The man walks down the steps, standing behind her crumpled body as he grabs the phone from her grasp, holding it up to his ear. 

Stiles hears the heavy breathing on the other end, his fist clenching in anger as he drives his Jeep toward her house. He had left his father at the market. “What do you want with her?” he asks, dangerously low to the man on the other end. 

“We just need some information on Derek Hale,” the man replies, terrifyingly calm. 

“Who is ‘we’? What do you want with Derek?” 

“You’ll find out in due time, Stiles. But for now, just call me Ennis.” 

“What are you going to do with her?” 

And then the line goes dead.


	2. Chapter 2

He is sufficiently freaking out. 

His hands tap impatiently on the steering wheel of his Jeep as he drives toward her house, his heart feeling like it’s about to beat out of his chest. 

The phone call with Lydia had ended just minutes ago. Hearing her screams over the small device. It had killed him inside, and he nearly drove off the side of the road. And when the man’s voice came on the line, his knuckles were white as his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel so tight. 

And when the line went dead, his heart nearly stopped. 

He runs a free hand through his newly grown out hair, tugging a little bit at the ends before returning it to the steering wheel. A breath of relief falls from his lips as he spots the Martin household, quickly turning into the driveway. 

Quickly, he puts the vehicle in park, taking the keys as he hops out of the run down Jeep, slamming the door shut before he races to the open front door. 

The lights are still on as he steps foot into the empty house. His eyes immediately spot the small pool of blood on the hardwood floor right in front of the stairs. The beating of his heart invades his ears, pounding against his ear drums. 

Moving through the house, he rushes upstairs to her bedroom where she said she hid under her bed, trying his best to ignore the blood stain at the top of the steps. Even through his shoes, he can feel the soft, white carpet that lines her floors. 

The first thing that catches his eye is the blood spot by the right side of her bed, probably where her ankle was scratched when she was pulled out. Several things from her night stand are knocked over from where she flailed and kicked to break free. 

His fists clench as the scene plays out about how her abduction went. For a second, he closes his eyes, breathing in a slow breath. He brings down his heart rate, trying to prevent a panic attack. He has to stay calm. He has to help her. 

Footsteps come up the stairs, making Stiles whip his head around. His best friend stands in the doorway, looking around the room with wide eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks the McCall boy, his eyebrows creased.

“I heard her scream. What are you doing here?” Scott explains, repeating the question. 

“She was on the phone with me when it happened.” 

“What did happen?” 

Sighing, Stiles moves to sit down on the left side of her bed, away from the bloodstain. “I don’t know. One minute we were just talking about her plans for tonight, and the next she was telling someone was in her house. She made me promise that I would come find her before she started screaming. I heard her fall down the stairs in the background of the phone. It was silent for a few minutes once she finally hit the bottom. Then, I heard hard breathing. A guy named Ennis told me that they needed to ask her some questions about Derek. And when I asked what they were gonna do to her, he hung up.” 

Scott lets out a sigh, running his hand through his styled hair. “What are we gonna do, Stiles? They’re not gonna just ask her a few questions then let her go, okay? They’re going to ask her questions that they know she won’t answer, and then they’re going to torture her. What if we can’t get to her in time?” Scott asks, looking at the Stilinski boy with wide eyes. 

“I don’t know, Scott. Okay? I don’t even know who this Ennis guy is!” Stiles exclaims. 

“Well, did she tell you anything else about him?” 

As Stiles thinks about his rushed conversation with the strawberry blonde, and he nearly face palms when he realizes he left out the most important piece of information. 

“He’s an alpha, Scott.” 

////

She wakes up with a pounding in her head. 

A dim light illuminates the small room, letting her eyes adjust easily. She’s met by four cement walls that are a plain gray color. There are no windows allowing to let her know what time it is or if it’s even day or night. A large door stands across from her, locks lining the upper half of it above the knob. 

Her and reaches up to itch at the dried blood on her forehead from her tumble down the stairs, but a loud clanging noise stops her. She looks to her wrists, to see large, metal cuffs secured around the pale skin, chains attached to them, running to the wall behind her. There’s only about two feet of chain, not giving her much mobility. 

Sighing, she itches away at the dried blood before letting her weak arms fall back down by her sides. She doesn’t know how long she’s been here. Or really why she’s here. What does this guy want with Derek, anyway? 

Her heart starts to race as she hear footsteps outside the large door. The clicking of the locks seems deafening in her ears before the door swings open, a bright light filling the room. Lydia's eyes clench shut, her headache only heightening. 

Opening her eyes again, the girl squints at the large man in front of her, the same one from her house, as he walks toward her, taking the cuffs off her wrists. “What, what are you doing?” Lydia asks him, leaning her head back against the cool wall. 

“We’re going to go talk to someone important. He has a few questions to ask you,” the man says, grabbing her arm tightly as he harshly pulls her up to a standing position. 

He pulls her out of the room and up the stairs to the ground level, pulling her through the intricate hallways of the large warehouse. They come up to a large, patterned door, his large fist knocking on it. Several moments later, it opens, no one standing in front of them.

Slowly, they walk through the door, a lone chair with cuffs on the arms and legs standing in the center of the room under a lone light bulb. 

“What is this? Some cliché interrogation bit?” the strawberry blonde asks in a minute of confidence, a scoff leaving her lips. 

“Of course not.” A British accent echoes off the walls, making the girl look around. A man with a cane and sunglasses covering his eyes appears from the shadows, followed by a woman with no shoes and long toenails smirking at her. “Last I knew, interrogations weren’t keen on including torture. At least, not at a legal standpoint.” 

She raises an eyebrow, looking at the man as he comes closer to her. “And what do they call you?” Lydia asks, resting her free hand on her hip. 

“Deucalion. But you can call me Duke, if you wish,” he states, resting both hands on his cane. She figures he’s blind. 

“That’s okay. I think I’ll stick with Deucalion. Not that Duke isn’t a nice name.” 

“You’re quite the charmer, Lydia. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

She eyes him warily. “From who?” 

“Well, where would be the fun if I told you that? Isn’t the fun in the mystery?” 

“I tend to like my cases solved and closed,” she retorts, causing the man to chuckle. 

“You sound like a real detective. That wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain Stilinski boy, now would it?” he asks with a smirk. 

Lydia glares at him. “Leave him out of this.” 

“I see I’ve struck a nerve. My apologies. I’ll try not to do it again.” He looks in the direction of the man behind the small girl. “Ennis, why don’t you show our guest to her seat?” 

Harshly, the man, Ennis, drags Lydia across the room to the lone chair, quickly strapping her into it. She pull against her restraints, cursing when she can barely move an inch. 

“So, Lydia,” Deucalion asks as he circles around her chair as she struggles in her seat, “why don’t you tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” she mutters, uncomfortable at how close he is to her. 

“Tell me about Derek Hale. What do you know about him?” 

Deucalion stops in front of her. Even though he can’t see her, she shrinks into her chair. 

“Not much besides he’s quite the stalker, doesn’t smile much, and he doesn’t like group outings. Oh, there was also that one time he tried to kill me. Anything else you need to know?” she asks with fake interest. 

She really does spend way too much time with Stiles. 

“You’re cute,” Deucalion says. He takes the end off of his cane, revealing a sharp blade that glints in the light of the single bulb. He whips it toward her, pointing the tip of it only a few centimeters away from her neck. Lydia gulps, but keeps her face neutral. 

“Is that your idea of a threat? Come on. You can do better than that,” she condescends, refusing to show her fear even though her hear is racing out of her chest. 

He chuckles at her, his blade never wavering. “You may look like you’re confident on the outside, Lydia, but your racing heart rate tells me something else.” 

Lydia glares at the man who can’t see her, cursing his supernatural ability to hear her drumming heartbeat. 

“Tell me, Lydia. Where can I find Derek Hale?” Deucalion asks. 

“You obviously know if you came here to Beacon Hills,” Lydia responds snarkily, her voice not once wavering. 

A chuckle sounds from the grown man, sending a chill down the girl’s spine. The next thing she feels is a stinging pain radiating through her right cheek, a thick, warm liquid sliding down her pale cheek. 

She breathes in deep, trying to keep herself from lashing out and making it worse. Her knuckles turn white from how hard she’s gripping the arms of the chair. 

“You’re funny, Lydia. You really are. But I didn’t take you for funny. I took you, because I need answers. And I expect to get those answers from you, Lydia. Now, tell me about Derek.” 

“ Look, I don’t know what you want to know about him, but I can tell you that I don’t know it. I honestly don’t really know him that well. I just found out about the supernatural a few months ago. I can promise you that there’s nothing I know that you want to know.” 

“I don’t really believe that, Lydia. I’m sure there’s a lot of things that you know that I would find very useful,” Deucalion comments, twirling his cane in his hand. In a flash, the blade with a drop of her blood is stuck into the bare skin of her left thigh. 

A gasp of pain leaves the girl’s lips as the man takes the blade out of her skin, taking a rag out of his pocket, polishing the silver surface. She struggles against the restraints again, trying to break free as pain burns through her lower thigh. 

“Come on, Lydia. You can do better than that.” 

She detects his mocking tone as he quotes her words from earlier. “I’m sorry I can’t inform you of things that I don’t know,” the girl manages to get out through the pain. 

Deucalion nods his head, circling her again as he plays with his blade. “Fair enough. Then let me ask you a few questions on something I think you know plenty about.” He smirks at her before he stands right in front of her again. “What do you know about Scott McCall?” 

////

“Are you sure he said Ennis?” 

“Okay, I might have been focused on the fact that one of my best friends was in the midst of being kidnapped, but I’m still sure I heard what she said, Derek,” Stiles rants, annoyed with the stalling of the older werewolf. 

Derek rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as they stand around the desk he has placed before the large window in his new loft. It was about time he decided he needed something better than a burnt down house to live in. 

“Yes. I know him. He’s part of another pack I’ve come across before. An alpha pack,” Derek states, placing his hands flat on the table as he leans into them. 

“An alpha pack? How does that even work?” Scott asks from next to the Stilinski boy. 

“I hear there’s some sort of leader. He calls himself Deucalion. We’re pretty sure they took Boyd and Erica. Peter and I have been looking for them for the past month and a half."

“So, you’re telling me, that Lydia got kidnapped by a pack of alpha werewolves because of you?” Stiles asks, his jaw tight and his eyes set in a stone cold glare. 

“Look, I’m sorry your little girlfriend got taken to get information on me, but it’s not like I told them to come and get her. So cool it.” 

Rolling his eyes, Stiles walks away to go sit on the lone couch, rubbing his hands over his face. Scott can smell his anxiety. 

“Don’t worry, man. We’ll find her,” Scott says, walking over to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s already been two days, Scott. She could already be dead. I don’t know. I just feel like we’re waiting for a ransom call.” 

And it’s almost like magic that his phone lights up with Lydia’s contact picture. 

////

“Come on, Lydia. I know he’s one of your best friends.”

She avoids his gaze, clenching her jaw to keep from saying anything. She knows if she does, it’s probably gonna get her killed. 

“He’s quite the leader, isn’t he?” Deucalion continues, tracing lines along her skin with the tip of his blade. Chills run down the girl’s spine. “I mean, he led his own pack as a   
beta against a kanima. You could say he is an alpha, just without the technicalities. He doesn’t have the red eyes, but he has the power and drive to be one.” 

“But won’t he have to kill an alpha to become one? Particularly Derek?” 

“Not a true alpha.” 

“What the hell is a true alpha?” 

“A werewolf that can rise to the status of an alpha by the force of his own will. I see it in Scott. And that’s why I want him in my pack.” 

“If you know all that, what do you need me for? It seems like you’ve got him all figured out,” Lydia comments, looking back up at the man. 

“Because we need to know what makes him weak. Besides his pack, of course. Same with Derek. We need to know how we can get into their heads. We need them with us. Because I don’t just need this pack, I need perfection.” 

“Perfection is unattainable.” 

“Not when you’re me.” 

Lydia rolls her eyes, tapping her finger nails against the arms of the chairs. She doesn’t know how long she’s been in this room, but it feels like it’s been days. The werewolves have only left once. Otherwise, they’ve been keen on keeping their ‘interrogation’ going on as long as possible. 

“Well, I’m sorry if you thought I was weak enough to tell you all the things you want to know, but I don’t give in that easily.” 

Deucalion chuckles again, causing Lydia to become tense. It’s almost like he’s expecting this from her. Like he’s playing a game with her. 

And she doesn’t know the rules. 

“Oh, Lydia. I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out, yet. Sure, I was hoping to get a little information out of you, but that’s not all I’m using you for.” 

Lydia’s eyebrows furrow. “What?” 

“Like I said earlier, one of Scott McCall’s weaknesses is his pack. He would do anything for them. For you. Especially go to Derek for help.” 

Realization sets in on the strawberry blonde genius. She wasn’t just here for interrogation. That’s not what they really wanted. 

They wanted bait.

She watches as Ennis walks over, holding her phone in his hand. The sound of the ringing tone make her eyes widen. Not only are they calling…

They’re video chatting. 

Violently, she struggles against her restraints as Ennis hands the phone to Deucalion, Ennis and the woman, who I’ve come to know a Khali, come closer to her with smirks on their faces. 

“Lydia?” 

The sound of the familiar voice makes the girl stop struggling against her restraints, her green eyes widening. 

“Stiles, don’t listen to anything they—“ Her words are muffled as a clawed hand covers her mouth, slightly digging into the skin of her cheek. 

“Hello, Mr. Stilinski,” Deucalion greets the boy, a smile on his face. “I bet you’ve been waiting for my call.” 

“Just let her go,” Stiles says immediately, getting straight to the point. 

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” 

“Just let her go. We’ll do anything you want. Just, just let her go.” 

“Tell Derek the only way I’ll let her go is if he joins my pack. And tell Scott that he should strongly consider. You know, or else…” 

The older man trails off as a loud scream, even though muffled by Ennis’s hand, rips through the air Khali’s claws sinking into the skin of Lydia’s abdomen. Tears fall down her face, being caught by the hand covering her mouth as muffled sobs leave her body. Her body burns as blood leaves the four claw marks on her stomach. 

“Don’t touch her!” she hears Stiles yell, though his words sound muffled in her clouded mind. The blood loss is already getting to her. 

“Then get me what I want.” 

////

Silence fills the loft as the call ends. 

Stiles’ phone falls to the ground, being the only source of sound as a loud thump sounds. The human now looks at the empty space between his hands, his pink lips parted. 

“We’re gonna get her back, Stiles,” Scott reassures him, sitting next to the pale boy with moles littering his cheeks. 

Ignoring the teen wolf’s words, Stiles stands from the couch, pacing back and forth in the center of the loft, biting the nails of one hand while the other runs frantically through his messy, brunette hair. 

“We need to come up with a plan,” Stiles mutters to himself, well aware that the two werewolves in the room can clearly hear him. 

“Stiles, calm down.” 

The boy doesn’t listen as his breathing picks up along with his beating heart, the sounds around him becoming distant. Things start to slow down around him. He knows   
what’s happening, but refuses to acknowledge it. 

A panic attack.

“We have to find her. We have to help her,” the struggling boy pants out, now running both hands through his hair as his pacing increases, becoming a little unsteady. 

Scott stands from the couch, walking over to his best friend with sad eyes. He hates seeing Stiles like this. He knows what it’s like to have an asthma attack. He can imagine a panic attack isn’t much better. 

“Stiles, we’re not gonna be able to help Lydia without you. We need you to come up with a plan. Come on, Stiles. Focus on what’s important. We need to help Lydia, okay?” 

Slowly but surely, Stiles comes back to reality. Anything involving Lydia will do that for him. 

It’s all Stiles, really. He’s the one that thinks of tracking Lydia’s phone, praying to God that their leader, Deucalion, was stupid enough to leave it on. Turns out, being an alpha werewolf doesn’t really boost your intelligence. 

They’re all piled into Derek’s car along with Isaac Lahey in the dark of the night thirty minutes, ready to save the day. 

////

Lydia’s head snaps up for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. 

It’s the blood loss. She knows. It’s making her tired. But she has to keep her eyes open, because the second they close, they might not open again. 

The alphas had left her about an hour ago. She hadn’t started feeling dizzy until about a half hour ago. It was only fifteen minutes ago that her head started lulling to the side. 

She hates feeling like this. So helpless and vulnerable. She wishes she could do something more. It’s times like these she wishes Peter’s bite had actually turned her into a werewolf. 

A crash from somewhere outside the room saves her from her thoughts, spiking the small bit of hope that maybe it was someone coming to her rescue. She didn’t want to get too far into her hopes. She’s been used to that for the past few months. 

“Find her!” 

The unmistakable voice of Scott McCall feeds her a new found source of adrenaline. She starts violently pulling against her restraints, trying with the last bit of energy she has to break free. 

Sometimes, she really wishes she were a werewolf. 

The door to the room opens abruptly, slamming into the wall. Her eyes look up, hoping to see her rescuer, but widen when she sees the raging face of Deucalion storming toward her. 

She tries with everything she has to break her restraints before he reaches her. But she can’t. She just can’t. 

It’s a surprise when Deucalion starts to unlock the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. But she knows it’s not for her. He’s doing it to get something out of it. He’s using her as a pawn in his little game. 

“Let her go!” 

The new voice makes her look toward the doorway, just in time to see a familiar lanky boy with brown hair and moles scattering his cheeks stumble through the door, looking at her like she’s his breathing air. 

In a flash, Deucalion grips her arm tightly, harshly pulling her up from the chair. He wraps one arm around her waist, holding her back firmly to his chest, while his free hand comes up to her throat, his protruding claws just barely puncturing the pale skin of her neck. 

Stiles’ eyes widen as he starts to walk towards them. “Don’t touch her!” 

A dark chuckle escapes the alpha’s lips as his eyes flash a brilliant red, his werewolf sight giving him the ability to see the teenage boy. “Oh, young love. It’s a really beautiful thing, Mr. Stilinski. Especially when it’s tragic,” Deucalion comments, an evil smirk upon his lips. 

“Now, if you want to the girl to live, you’ll be smart and step back. And from what I have observed, you two make quite the gigantic IQ.” 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Stiles’ eyes shift to the strawberry blonde who is trying to keep her neck as far away from the werewolf’s claws as possible, her head leaning back on his shoulder. Her green eyes meet his whiskey ones, giving him a small nod. Hesitantly, he takes a small step back. 

“Okay. I did it. I took a step back. Now, please, just, just let her go. She doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Stiles lies easily. 

“Do you take me for a fool?” Deucalion booms, his loud voice sitting in the bottom of Lydia’s stomach. Stiles winces when he sees that the alpha’s claws have dug deeper into Lydia’s neck, drawing blood. In such a stark comparison to her skin, the red blood travels down the expanse of her exposed neck, pooling at her collar bone. 

“I’m no fool, Mr. Stilinski. I know that she was bitten by Peter Hale. I know she brought that Jackson fellow back from being the kanima. I know things you probably don’t even know yourself. I know everything, Stiles. Don’t underestimate me.” 

Deucalion preps to sink his claws into Lydia’s skin, taking away her last breath. Stiles sees this, his eyes widening farther than what could seem possible. He starts to run forward, his hands out in front of him. 

“NO!” 

The whizzing of an arrow passes inches away from Stiles’ ear, heading a straight path to Deucalion and Lydia. The silver arrow head lodges itself into the skin of Deucalion’s hand, a cry of pain escaping his lips as he lets Lydia go completely, stumbling backwards. 

With the last bit of energy she has left, Lydia swings around, kicking her leg up to send a hard blow to the werewolf’s head and another one to his chest, sending him flying back into the wall. Turning back around, she limps toward the Stilinski boy, falling into his open arms. 

She sends a grateful smile toward the pale brunette beauty standing a few feet away with a bow strung over her shoulder. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in France?” Lydia asks in a tired, teasing tone. 

Allison rolls her eyes, a smile appearing on her pink lips. “I heard my best friend got kidnapped. I had to come save her ass like usual,” the brunette teases back, causing Lydia to chuckle. 

They hear a groan from the other side of the room, their heads snapping in the direction of the werewolf who is sending them a glare, struggling to get up on his feet. Did Lydia really hit him that hard? 

Quickly, Stiles bends down, picking up the girl in bridal style before he follows the Argent hunter out of the room and down the hall. When they get into the main room, Lydia sees that Allison had taken out the other two werewolves with arrows, probably laced with wolfsbane. 

“Good job, Alli,” Lydia mutters, resting her head on Stiles’ chest. Her eyelids start to feel like lead, and there’s nothing she wants to do more than close them. 

“No, Lydia. You’ve got to keep your eyes open for me. Come on, keep them open,” Stiles whispers to her as they walk out of the building with Scott and Derek in tow. 

“I’m so tired.” 

“I know, just keep your eyes open.” 

She hears the slamming of a car door. When she opens her eyes again, she’s staring up at the ceiling of a car her head on Stiles’ lap. 

“Thanks for being a good Batman, Stiles,” Lydia mutters. 

The last thing she sees before her vision goes black is his wide, whiskey eyes looking down at her. 

////

“Stiles, relax. I’m fine.” 

Lydia rolls her eyes as Stiles carries her bridal style over the threshold of her home. Her mother still wasn’t back from her conference yet, leaving the Stilinski boy to take care   
of her. 

Not that either of them minded. 

“The doctor said it’s gonna take quite a while for the gashes on your abdomen to heal. You’ve only had the stitches for a week. I’m not taking any chances, Martin,” he comments, walking over to set her down on the couch before closing the front door. 

She looks around the house, noticing that everything is cleaned up from when she was first taken. Good, she thinks. I wouldn’t want any reminders besides the memories.

“Oh, so we’re going by last names, are we now?” she asks with a smirk toward the boy. “I didn’t realize we were so close.” 

He rolls his eyes, taking a seat next to her on the soft couch. Obliviously, he slings his arm around her shoulder, causing her heart to skip a beat. “I think we’ve been through so much together that we’re about as close as anyone can get.” 

Chuckling, the girl leans her head on his soft shoulder, taking notice of how much more comfortable it is than Jackson’s ever was. His was always too buff. Stiles’, while being buff, is softer. He doesn’t care about the strength as much as Jackson did. It’s nice. 

The pair sit in silence for a while, enjoying the fact that they still have each other. 

But then Lydia starts thinking. What if this is the last time they’re ever like this again? Who knows what will happen tomorrow. She surely wasn’t expecting what happened to her less than two weeks ago. 

What if she never gets the chance to tell him how she feels again? 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she sits up a little straighter, lifting her head from the Stilinski boy’s shoulder. “Stiles? There’s something I need to tell you,” she says timidly, reading his face. 

“Uh, oh. What did I do now?” he asks teasingly, removing his arm from her shoulder as he turns to look at her more directly. 

A chill rolls down her spine at the lost warmth from his arm, but she ignores it as she looks down at her hands in her lap, picking at her nails. 

“Well, after everything that’s happened in the past two weeks, I’ve been thinking. A lot, actually. And, I realized that this moment that we’re having right now, it should be something that is cherished. Because we don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Or even the next hour or minute. So, I wanted to take this chance to tell you something, because I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to do it again.” 

He nods at her, willing her to go on. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up in what she’s going to say, but he wants to think it’s what he wants to hear. 

She swallows again before going on. “Well, this past year has been crazy. Werewolves, kanimas, evil alphas that want to take over the world. After Jackson broke up with me, I realized that nothing on this Earth is constant. My father being with my mother wasn’t constant. My mother being around isn’t constant. Even Allison, going off to France, wasn’t constant. But I realized another thing. There is one thing in my life that has always been constant. I was just too blind to realize it.” 

“And what’s that?” Stiles asks, even though he feels like he already knows the answer. 

Her green eyes travel up to look at him, her face blank. “You.

“You have always been a constant in my life, Stiles. Back in third grade when my mom forgot to pack me my usual pudding cup, you offered to share half your chocolate chip cookie that your mom packed with me at snack time. In sixth grade when I was always forgetting my pencils, you always had a spare. And this year. When I was kidnapped, you   
didn’t stop until you found me. I just, you’ve always been there for me. And I thought it was time for me to acknowledge that.” 

He smiles at her, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. “Thank you, Stiles. For always being there for me.” 

They pull back from the hug. And now, comes the real part. 

She swallows the lump in her throat. A tight smile overtakes her lips as she looks at him. With a burst of confidence, she takes his hand, his long, skinny fingers twining with hers in the perfect way. 

“But that’s not the only thing I wanted to say.” 

Stiles swears his heart skips a beat. 

“I know you’ve been obsessively in love with me for the past eight years since third grade. At first, no offense, it kind of weirded me out. But, as we started hanging out more over the summer, I didn’t see that lost puppy dog Stiles. I saw a grown up Stiles. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think your feelings for me have kind of, matured per say.” When he doesn’t say anything, she goes on. “And, maybe I’ve already lost my chance. But I just want you to know that I have feelings for you that I don’t want to hold back anymore. If you’re over it, it’s fine. I just thought I should tell you now if I never get the—“ 

Her babbling is cut off when a pair of slightly chapped but soft lips cover her own, silencing wherever she was going with her rant. Lydia’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but she quickly responds to his moving lips, bringing her hands to hold his cheeks while his rest on her waist. 

She could get used to this.


End file.
